


together in our bed

by daintilyharry



Series: short fluffy drabbles (about louis and harry admiring each other) [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: !!!!!!, Body Worship, Fluff, I HOPE THEY ADMIRE EACH OTHER EVERY MORNING, M/M, because they are both beautiful people, fluff fluff, kind of also headcanon, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:43:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1443955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daintilyharry/pseuds/daintilyharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson is the most beautiful thing Harry Styles wakes next up to, and he is pretty damn sure he is one hell of a lucky man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	together in our bed

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this fic at 2:30 in the morning and finished at 3... in the morning. So apologies if nothing makes sense and excuse my incoherent writing... i was half asleep writing and i was bursting with feelings i couldn't contain.
> 
> i should stop talking.... but enjoy!!!! (i hope) 
> 
> tumblr: http://froggyedwardstyles.tumblr.com

 

> “I love the way the sunlight beams through the curtains and the light shines on you. I love the way your tummy rises as you breathe, fast asleep. I love the faint sound of your heart beating while my head is pressed against your chest. I love the small crack of smile on your face when you're deep asleep. I love the way your face contorts in the middle of a dream, whether good or bad. I love the way your body is tangled with mine, sometimes we don't even have to use the heater because our bodies pressed against each other is warm enough. But most of all, I love the way you wake up. Your eyelashes fluttering showing your bright eyes, the way you mumble and half groan because you don't want to wake up just yet. But the way you look at me smiling, whispering a small good mornings and an I love you… it's that part of the day where I can't believe you're mine. Where you make me feel nothing else exists, nothing else matters in this whole damn unvierse, but you."

 

At times like this, Harry can hardly believe that this boy was his. The way he sleeps, curled up and tucked underneath his arms for body warmth (because of their sad excuse of a heater failing on them; not that they mind by getting through it with cuddles), the way he'd mumble deep asleep with such random clusters of words Harry found amusing, finding himself softly laughing barely half awake. The way his lips would quirk into a smile, reassuring Harry that he wasn't having a bad dream. The way he'd cling on to Harry like a child and tangle their limbs like vines. The way he'd breathe, as his chest rises up and down, softly snoring as his arms lay on his chest.

 

Despite sounding utterly creepy, watching his boy fast asleep; this is the reason Harry wakes up everyday. The early mornings, just minutes after sunrise, the light seeping through the slits of the window, illuminating the opaque curtain, blinding Harry at the sight of his early blurry vision, is where he finds his reason of waking up so early.

 

Louis awakes, arms and legs tucked within each other, his head against his chest. Harry looks down at him, Louis mumbling as Harry stares down at his boy, all soft and vulnerable. The moment he rubs his eyes awake, still in post-phosphene vision, gets Harry's heart beating so damn fast it could burst out of his fragile rib cage. Louis' eyes would flutter open, his long hazel eyelashes complimenting his cerulean blue eyes, shining ever so brightly as the sun reflects against it.

 

And honestly, Harry thinks David Attenborough should commentate behind Louis waking up every morning. He thinks he deserves its own televised slot in the nature channels. Because nature is beautiful, and so is Louis Tomlinson. 

 

“Morning, beautiful.” Harry would whisper into his ears, as Louis groans, pulling the covers over their heads, cold on a frosty January morning.

 

Louis pulls the covers back down gasping for of air due to their heated bodies glued to each other.

 

“I love you, you know that?” Louis whispers as he tilts his head back, to stare at the younger boy, still barely awake, but enough to mumble silently against his chest.

 

"Yes, off course I know.” Is what Harry says in return, placing a chaste kiss against his lips that plasters a smile on his face.

 

How did he ever get so lucky? Is what he wonders.

 

It's mornings like this Harry wakes up for. A time he never takes for granted and treasures everyday. At times he'd want to give up, wanting to go in that life long sleep everyone longs for, he realises how lucky he was. There's someone wanting to wake up next to him every morning, someone wanting to be wrapped up in his arms in such a large bed, but chose to be confined by his large tattooed limbs. It makes him feel hopeful and needed and most of all, loved. It makes him want to wake up every morning because this is what he gets. It's mornings like these Harry would never change for his life, or he'd rather be dead. Nothing can explain, there's nothing to complain.

 

It's this beautiful boy waking up to him every damn morning, wanting him more and more everyday. The one that still gives him butterflies (Harry knows he's fucked, but he's way beyond that at this point after four damn years) and a whole other mix of other inanimate feelings symbolised by animated things because that's the only way to describe it.

 

But the most important of all, there is a boy who he absolutely loves, and was loved the same way in return. Someone he gets to wake up next to and fall in love with more everyday. The reason he wakes up with a grin on his face, the one that brightens up the expected and unexpected darkest of his days, leaving everyone questioning why he's always so damn happy.

 

Because of him, he sure is one hell of a lucky man.

 


End file.
